


If You Make it Worth my While

by SomewhereFlying



Series: Satin Secrets [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Akechi Goro, Lingerie, M/M, No P5R spoilers, Rimming, Top Persona 5 Protagonist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:35:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27644219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomewhereFlying/pseuds/SomewhereFlying
Summary: The day before the Thieves infiltrate the casino Palace, Akira texts Akechi with a very specific request: come over to Leblanc wearing the silk panties Akira had given him the last time they met.Despite knowing exactly what he would have to do in less than 24 hours, Akechi accepts. What could be the harm in one more night of indulgence?
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: Satin Secrets [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2021270
Comments: 22
Kudos: 189





	If You Make it Worth my While

**Author's Note:**

> **Spoilers** for everything after the 6th Palace, up to and including the entirety of November 20th. 
> 
> This fic can be read as P5R-compliant, but it isn't explicitly set in that game and will contain no Royal spoilers.

* * *

  
[November 17th 23:35]

 **> >Akira Kurusu:** Hey

[November 17th 23:52]

 **> >Goro Akechi:** Hello.  
**> >Goro Akechi:** It’s late, Kurusu-kun. Is something the matter?

 **> >Akira Kurusu:** Nah, I just  
**> >Akira Kurusu:** Wanted to say hi, I guess

 **> >Goro Akechi:** Well… hello to you, too, then.

 **> >Akira Kurusu:** :)

[November 17th 23:54]

 **> >Akira Kurusu:** So  
**> >Akira Kurusu:** Do you still have that thing I gave you the other day?

 **> >Goro Akechi:** I do.  
**> >Goro Akechi:** Why?

 **> >Akira Kurusu:** Just wondering

[November 17th 23:56]

 **> >Akira Kurusu:** If I asked you to wear them tomorrow, would you?

[November 17th 23:58]

 **> >Goro Akechi:** I might.  
**> >Goro Akechi:** Are you asking?

 **> >Akira Kurusu:** I am

 **> >Goro Akechi:** Okay then.

 **> >Akira Kurusu:** So, will you do it?

[November 18th 00:10]

 **> >Goro Akechi:** I suppose you’ll just have to wait and find out, won’t you?  


* * *

  
Darkness had long since fallen over the backstreets of Yongen-Jaya by the time Akechi finally stepped off the train and began to head towards Leblanc. He glanced down at his phone while he walked, still surprised that Akira hadn’t sent him any kind of follow-up text asking where he was, if he was going back on his promise.

And okay, Akechi knew it was something of a petty move to show up this late without sending Akira a text first, but really, it was Akira’s fault for never even _asking_ Akechi to come over tonight. Technically, if Akechi had done nothing more than wake up that morning and dress himself in the lace trophy he’d taken from Akira during their last meeting, he still would have fulfilled the thief's request.

But no; instead of asking directly, Akira had left his invitation implicit, and Akechi almost sneered at the sheer _audacity_ of it all. Did Akira truly think that all he had to do was snap his fingers and Akechi would come running? Please.

The fact that he was currently standing outside Leblanc was irrelevant.

Akechi sighed roughly, exhaling a puff of breath into the cold November air. He felt like such a fool, willingly going about his day in lace underwear just because some attic trash asked him to – hell, it was stupid of him to have even kept the panties in the first place. Initially, Akechi had assumed he was simply too embarrassed to throw them away until he was back in the safety of his own apartment, but once he got home, the first thing he did was research how to wash lacy pieces of clothing.

The second thing he did was clear his internet history.

Then he actually washed the damn things. An incomprehensible mix of emotions flooded him when he looked at the shimmering, crimson-colored silk, a feeling that compelled him to handle the panties with a more delicate touch than he would have used for some everyday piece of clothing. It was a gift, after all…

But it was a gift from _Akira_ – Akechi’s sworn rival, and the man he was slated to kill in less than 48 hours. It was a gift from a dead man who wouldn’t live long enough to see that Akechi was handling his present with respect. It didn’t demand this level of care… and yet, Akechi still made the effort to properly clean and dry the panties before folding them neatly and storing them in the back of his dresser, where at least he wouldn’t have to look at them.

And then there was the matter of last night’s text.

Akechi kept his distance from Leblanc’s front door, mulling over his options. Had he already been spotted loitering outside the café? The windows were foggy, so it was possible he could still slip away sight unseen… but he was never one to back down from a challenge. Besides, he was already here – and in costume, too. Hidden beneath his business slacks, the silky panties sat slippery against his skin, and every time he moved, a thrill ran through him – not just for the physical sensations, but for the memories of that night in Akira’s attic, when Akechi finally allowed himself to let go and indulge, just for a moment…

As soon as it arrived, however, Akechi shook the thought out of his head. It didn’t matter anymore. Akira’s downfall was imminent; Akechi didn’t have to indulge him.

And yet, here he was.

The trouble, of course, was that Akechi himself couldn’t stay away, not with the kind of bait Akira had fed him… but at the very least, he could force the thief to squirm a little. It would serve him right.

Taking one last breath to steady himself, Akechi walked into Leblanc.

The bell chimed, and Akechi immediately spotted Akira standing behind Leblanc’s counter, anxiously running a dry cloth over the bar without doing much to actually clean it. When he noticed Akechi, visible relief flooded his face, his entire posture relaxing now that he knew Akechi didn’t plan to blow him off. It was funny; for someone who wore so many masks, Akira certainly had a tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve… at least, when he was around Akechi.

“Good evening, detective,” Akira said.

“Hello, Kurusu-kun.” Akechi smiled blandly, sitting himself down at the bar directly across from Akira. “I don’t suppose I could trouble you for a cup of coffee?” he asked, plastering his most sickeningly-fake smile on his face.

“Coming right up,” Akira said with a smile equally as bright, though Akechi couldn’t tell if it was quite as disingenuous as his own. Part of him thought that it was completely sincere – smiles always were, with Akira – and Akechi hardly knew what to make of that. He’d almost rather Akira give him the same plastic pleasantries Akechi himself offered; that, at least, was familiar territory for him.

A few minutes later, Akira placed a cup of freshly-brewed coffee before him. Akechi took the mug with a quiet “thanks” and brought it to his lips, inhaling deeply. He could smell the roast, bold and a little sweet, and he took a long drink, the coffee just barely cool enough not to scald. The hour was late enough that he should have rejected the extra caffeine, but coming to Leblanc like this, taking a cup of coffee while making small talk with Akira, it felt like a routine at this point, a ritual. For all his heart was racing, the coffee calmed him down.

From the other side of the bar, Akira watched him take his coffee in silence. He was antsy, impatient, his eyes trailing over Akechi’s front and lingering on his chest, drinking him in – probably imagining what he must look like underneath. Wondering, no doubt, if Akechi had done as he asked…

A chill ran over Akechi’s skin. He was getting a little impatient, too, and when his cup was half-empty, he set it down on its saucer and pushed it away. Akira raised an eyebrow.

“Finished already?” he asked.

“I suppose I’m not as thirsty as I thought,” Akechi said.

A smirk flashed across Akira’s face.

“That’s a pity,” he said, sweeping Akechi’s cup away and into the sink to be cleaned. Akechi flexed his fingers and tapped against the counter, already regretting his decision. The cup had been a helpful prop, something he could hide behind while he was still gathering his thoughts, and losing it made him suddenly tense.

“Are you finished for the night?” Akechi asked when Akira began to untie his apron. It was still well before Leblanc’s closing time, and Sojiro was still standing behind the bar; Akechi had thought for sure he’d have another hour or so to steel himself for tonight.

“Boss said I could take off early,” Akira explained, to which Sojiro nodded and made a gruff sound of agreement.

“Ah,” Akechi said. His mouth felt dry, his pulse quick. The caffeine was really hitting his system now. “I see.”

Akira wound around the bar, smooth and confident like an alley cat walking over its home turf. He stopped a few feet in front of Akechi and asked, “Ready, detective?”

Akechi didn’t grant him a response aside from standing up and pushing his stool back into place at the bar.

“I’m closing up soon,” Sojiro said to them. “Don’t forget to lock the door again when he leaves.”

“You got it, Boss,” Akira said, and then, not wanting to linger in front of Sojiro any longer than necessary, he ascended the stairs with Akechi close behind him.

The attic was a familiar sight: exposed rafters and old furniture, more a storage space than a proper bedroom, even if Akira had made an admirable effort to make the place liveable. Looking around, Akechi thought it seemed a little less cluttered than the last time he had visited, and – perhaps more importantly – Morgana was nowhere to be found.

“How’re you feeling?” Akira asked. He stopped in the middle of the room, halfway between the couch and the futon.

Akechi scoffed softly, but there was no real anger behind the sound.

“About as well as I can feel, I suppose,” he said. “It is what it is. The sooner our work is finished, the better, as far as I’m concerned.”

 _The sooner the better,_ he repeated to himself. _The sooner I rid myself of you, the sooner my life can go back to normal…_

“But surely that’s not what you wish to discuss tonight, is it, Kurusu-kun?” Akechi added, dropping his tone of voice to something low, maybe even sultry. “I was under the impression you invited me over for a very _specific_ reason.”

Akira let out a long breath and gave a jerky nod of his head.

“Yeah,” he said, and took a step closer to Akechi. “So, that thing I asked you… Akechi-kun, did you—?”

He was close enough to touch now, hardly two feet away, but he stopped short, kept his hands to himself. Waiting for Akechi’s permission.

With his heart leaping in his chest, Akechi closed the gap between them. He tilted his chin up and looked down at Akira with the hint of a challenge smoldering in his eyes.

“You tell me,” he said.

Another shaky breath left Akira as he surged forward and cupped Akechi’s face in both his hands, drawing him up into a heated kiss. There was no hesitancy to his actions tonight; Akira pressed against him, hot and urgent, like he knew exactly how little time they had left and was determined to make the most of this one intimate moment they could afford to take – and what little time they had, Akechi thought. He snaked his arms around Akira’s waist and tugged him even closer, until their bodies were pressing flush against one another, as if Akira’s mere physical presence could banish the thought of the deadline looming over them both.

 _Tomorrow,_ a voice in Akechi’s head whispered. _Tomorrow, he’ll be dead…_

With a frustrated growl, Akechi canted his head to the side and parted his lips, silently urging Akira to do the same, which he did – gladly – all while threading one of his hands into Akechi’s hair and holding him there, a gentle but firm pressure that made Akechi feel _wanted_. Akira was holding onto him so tightly, like he was… afraid to let go?

_Surely, he has no idea…_

Akechi squeezed his eyes shut even harder, trying to drown out his own thoughts. He had to stop torturing himself like this. What was one more moment, one more kiss? It didn’t matter – _Kurusu_ didn’t matter…

Slowly, Akira let his free hand roam down Akechi’s chest, over his hips, landing on the hem of his pants. With deft, dexterous fingers, Akira unlatched the buckle on his belt and tugged until it was loose enough that he could slip his fingers underneath Akechi’s slacks. When he finally brushed his fingertips against the satin adorning Akechi’s hips, he immediately tensed, breaking off the kiss with a sharp gasp.

“ _Fuck,_ Akechi.”

His moan lanced through Akechi’s heart and burst inside him, spreading heat through his limbs and into his blood.

“You – you really do have a fetish for this, don’t you, Kurusu-kun?” Akechi asked, and a short laugh spilled from his lips – not because it was funny, but because his nerves were so alight with anticipation that he could hardly keep it bottled up any longer.

Akira pulled back far enough for Akechi to see his pupils, dark and dilated with lust.

“It’s not just that,” he said. “It’s the fact that you were wearing these under your work clothes all day… in front of your boss, in front of your fans.” He untangled his hand from Akechi’s hair and brushed it alongside Akechi’s cheek, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “And… I like knowing that you did it because _I told you to._ ”

Akechi bristled, but it was hard to act indignant when Akira still had a hand on his ass.

“Well, I wouldn’t be much of a teammate if I couldn’t follow my _leader’s_ orders, now would I?” Akechi asked.

The hand that had been squeezing Akechi’s ass suddenly paused, and a strange look crossed Akira’s face.

“I could give you a few more orders,” Akira said slowly. His voice alone was enough to make Akechi shiver, but something about his heated gaze stirred up his insides even more. “If you’re interested.”

Akechi swallowed around a thick lump in his throat. The thought of following Akira’s commands, not on the battlefield but in the _bedroom_ , sent his heart racing wildly and turned his limbs to jelly. Every rational fiber in his body told him to refuse, to get up and walk out and leave Akira sitting in shame, but so much stronger was the desire to keep playing this game with his rival, no matter the outcome.

“Hmm… I suppose, if I think the orders are worth following,” Akechi said, trying to come off as nonchalant, like he could walk away at any moment. Like he was the one in control here. “I won’t obey if it’s not worth my while.”

“Of course,” Akira said, and he smiled, the look on his face so achingly _fond_ that Akechi couldn’t bear to look at it. He dragged Akira forward into another kiss, silencing him with his tongue until Akira angled away from Akechi’s mouth and pressed his lips against his jaw, instead. He twirled his finger around a lock of Akechi’s hair, barely touching Akechi’s cheek as he did so.

“I have my first order,” he said. “Are you ready?”

“…go ahead,” Akechi replied.

“Call me Akira?”

Briefly, a smile flashed across Akechi’s face. Leave it to Akira to say something so mushy at a time like _this_.

“As you wish, Akira-kun,” Akechi said. He let his voice go soft, the way he did when he was really trying to flatter someone, and, to his delight, Akira’s confident aura faltered for just a second.

_Hmph. You didn’t think it would affect you so badly, did you? Pathetic._

“Don’t get cocky yet, _Goro_ ,” Akira shot back, nosing against Akechi’s neck, and Akechi had to bite down hard on his tongue to repress the jolt that ran through him after hearing his given name spoken in such a rough, heady tone of voice. “We’re only just getting started.”

Then, Akira pulled away from Akechi entirely and settled down on the futon, casually spreading his legs apart. He leaned back on his arms and watched Akechi with open anticipation, a tiny smirk tugging at the edges of his lips.

“Strip,” he said.

The way he spoke made it clear that this was another order – one with some substance, finally – and immediately, Akechi moved to stand a few feet in front of Akira, shedding his coat without any particular flourish and draping it over a nearby chair. That wouldn’t do for much longer, however; with that kind of command, Akira obviously wanted Akechi to put on a show. It was embarrassing to imagine, but… Akechi was nothing if not a showman.

Looking Akira dead in the eye, Akechi loosened the knot of his tie and tugged it free, undoing the top two buttons on his collar as he did. Akira kept eye contact for a frankly impressive few seconds before his eyes finally darted down to watch Akechi’s slender, gloved fingers get to work on the rest of his buttons. Barely pausing to blink, he was _entranced_ by the sight, watching as Akechi exposed more and more skin, and a confident smile came back to Akechi’s face.

Yes, he could work with this.

“I bet you’ve imagined this dozens of times, hmm, Akira-kun?” Akechi asked. With each button undone, he pulled back his shirt even farther, revealing a hint of his bare chest, a flash of his nipple. “Even before our last little encounter. Am I everything you dreamed I’d be?”

Akira’s head snapped up, like he’d woken up from a trance.

“And then some,” he said, giving Akechi a lopsided smile.

“Good,” Akechi said. “You’re lucky… you’re the only one who’s ever seen this side of me.”

His shirt slipped from his shoulders, and he allowed gravity to take care of the rest.

“And this…” He placed a hand over his zipper, sliding down slightly and pressing against the crotch of his pants. He shuddered at the sudden sensation; somehow, this stupid striptease had been enough to get him going. “I wouldn’t do this for just anyone, you know.”

Akira didn’t say anything to that, just continued to stare at Akechi with a look that was both subtly possessive and full of desire, a decadent combination Akechi never knew he craved until he saw it on Akira’s face.

It was intoxicating, addicting. He wanted to see more.

With that thought in mind, Akechi turned down a corner of his slacks, revealing the edge of his underwear. The bright red lace stood out against his dull khaki pants, and the contrast made him feel even more scandalous; as he slipped his slacks the rest of the way down his legs, he felt so _visible_ , but — if he was, it was only for Akira, and somehow, he didn’t mind bearing himself to Akira quite as much as he knew he should have.

 _I’m the only one who’s done this for you,_ he thought. _I’m the only one you’ll **ever** get to see like this… and you’re the only one for me._

Such grim thoughts had no place in a moment like this, but Akechi couldn’t rid himself of them even if he tried. It made a twisted part of his brain _happy_ to know that this moment was something he and Akira would share with each other, and no one else – for the rest of their lives, however short those would be.

“How was it?” Akira asked as Akechi stepped out of his khakis and clambered onto the futon beside him. “Wearing these all day?”

“It was… exciting,” Akechi admitted. “As if I was keeping a secret from the world.”

“Did it turn you on?”

“Yes,” Akechi said, his voice dropping to an embarrassed whisper. “During a meeting.”

The corners of Akira’s mouth twitched upward.

“Cute,” he said, reaching out to run his fingers over Akechi’s exposed shoulder. “Did you touch yourself afterwards?”

“…no.”

“No?” Akira chuckled, dark and amused. “Why not?”

“I was waiting for this,” Akechi said. He squeezed his eyes shut tight as if it would keep the burning blush off of his cheeks. “I was waiting for you.”

No sooner had the words been spoken than Akira tugged him forward by the shoulder and kissed him hard on the mouth.

“God, you’re perfect,” Akira moaned against his lips. “I didn’t even have to tell you… you just knew. Such a good boy.”

The praise lit a fire in Akechi’s chest, his whole body smoldering with anticipation, and a soft whimper escaped him.

“Goro,” Akira murmured. He cupped Akechi’s cheek in his hand, stroking his skin softly, almost reverently. “You look beautiful like this.”

Akechi couldn’t look him in the eye. It made his heart beat too painfully fast.

“You should… give me another order,” he said.

Akira hesitated for a moment before he let Akechi go and nodded.

“All right then, close your eyes.”

Akechi made a show of rolling his eyes before deliberately closing them, feeling the mattress dip as Akira stood up and stepped away from the futon. Akechi shivered; without Akira’s presence to keep him warm, he felt uncomfortably chilly in this drafty attic. He shifted around, listening to the sound of rustling fabric while he waited for Akira to come back to his side.

“Okay, you can look now.”

When Akechi opened his eyes again, he found Akira notably stripped down. That much Akechi had expected – what he had _not_ expected was the lacy black camisole and matching panties Akira had been hiding beneath his clothes.

This ensemble was a far cry from the simple outfit Akira had worn during their last encounter: these panties looked like they were made specifically to hold a cock, shiny black and cradling the outline of his half-hard erection perfectly. They rode low on Akira’s hips, dipping with his pelvis and accentuating the trail of dark hair that ran along his lower abdomen. His top was sheer and silky, with elegant black lace outlining his nipples, which were plainly visible beneath the gauzy fabric – it did nothing to hide them. Of course it didn’t; this was hardly the kind of clothing one would wear for _practical_ reasons.

“ _Akira,_ ” Akechi breathed. “This is… new.”

“Mhm.” Akira hummed and ran one of his fingers lightly over the fabric covering his nipple. “I had to do something special for you.”

“You really didn’t.”

Akira shrugged. “Maybe not. But do you like it?”

To say Akechi liked it would be a grave understatement. Even when he was plainly dressed, Akira was inhumanly attractive, and Akechi had long suspected that he could make anything look good. Dressed as he was now, he stirred up feelings in Akechi’s gut that had been dormant for years and years: the selfish, carnal desires that he had knowingly buried for the sake of his survival and his revenge. He didn’t want this, he told himself.

But maybe that wasn’t true. Maybe he’d always wanted this, but never before had he found someone worth falling for. Not until Akira.

“I do,” he said, his voice little more than a breathy whisper. “I like it…”

Obviously pleased by that response, Akira crawled back onto the bed, straddling Akechi’s thighs and just barely sitting down on top of him, offering no friction or pressure – teasing him. Akechi’s head lolled to the side and, unwittingly, he let out a frustrated whine, something that did not go unnoticed by Akira.

“You said you were waiting for me, right?” Akira asked. “So… what were you hoping for?”

Akechi scoffed and turned his cheek on Akira.

“I think you know perfectly well, Akira-kun.”

Bastard that he was, Akira cocked his head to the side and grinned impishly.

“Maybe,” he said, “but I want to hear you say it.”

“If –” Akechi growled, his chest tightening up with a mix of embarrassment and anticipation. “If you’re telling me you have no intention of fucking me, then I’ll take my leave now, thank you.”

Akira smirked at him and looped his arms around Akechi’s shoulders, tugging him close enough that the delicate, lacy fabric of his camisole brushed over Akechi’s bare stomach.

“Is that what you want?” he asked. “You want me to fuck you, Goro?”

“I—“

Before Akechi could even respond, Akira rolled his hips down against him, sending a wave of pleasure coursing through Akechi’s body. The silky fabric they both wore made grinding easier, though Akechi’s clothes were already stained wet with pre-come, which introduced a whole new layer of friction that had him gasping after an embarrassingly short time.

“C’mon, Goro. Tell me what you want.”

An order, clearly, and one that should have been easy to follow. _Please, I want you to **fuck** me, Akira-kun,_ he would say, a plea to be spoken in his sweetest, most irresistible tone of voice, and yet – he couldn’t. The words stuck in his throat, making it even harder for him to swallow his pride.

“ _Please,_ Akira,” he finally managed to say. “…you know what I need.”

He must have taken Akira by surprise, because the cocky, confident expression dropped from his face for just a moment. He recovered quickly, however, and with one last definitive push of his hips, Akira pressed a kiss against Akechi’s cheek and pulled back until he was sitting beside Akechi instead of on top of him.

“On your hands and knees,” he commanded, making a little spinning motion with his finger.

Akechi was quick to comply. He scrambled into position, the futon dipping beneath his weight while Akira took a detour to his bedside table, retrieving a little bottle of what Akechi assumed to be lube. Then Akira sat down on his haunches behind Akechi and tugged his panties to the side, pulling them taut against Akechi’s thigh. Akechi braced himself as Akira placed both hands on his ass and spread him apart, but instead of the finger he expected, Akechi felt something hot and wet press against his hole.

“Ahh— Akira!” Akechi nearly yelped.

Akira’s tongue left Akechi’s ass.

“Yeah?”

“Y-You…”

Before Akechi could reply, Akira’s tongue was on him again, tracing a slow circle around his hole. It felt strange but not bad, intimate in a way that Akechi couldn’t have possibly dreamed of, and he could already feel his muscles relaxing under Akira’s skilled work, little sparks of pleasure dancing over his sensitive skin.

“You’ll stretch the fabric,” Akechi finally stammered out.

“What, the panties?” Akira asked. “It’s fine; I’ll buy you more. As many as you want. I bet you’d look great in black.” Flicking open the bottle of lube, Akira began to alternate between using his fingers and his tongue, licking Akechi’s ass and then teasing him with his lube-slicked fingertips when he pulled back to speak. “Or maybe white? White lace for the pure, perfect Detective Prince.”

“Oh – _hnn_ , fuck off,” Akechi groaned. “You’re making fun of me…”

“Maybe a little.” Akira pressed the tips of two fingers against the rim of Akechi’s hole, rubbing up against the ring of muscle and teasing him before he pressed inside, causing Akechi to let out a quiet, stifled groan into Akira’s pillow. “You’re not as innocent as people think you are, huh?” he asked.

_You have no idea._

Again, dark thoughts threatened to invade Akechi’s mind, but it was getting harder and harder to think when Akira’s long, slender fingers were massaging him open, rubbing against his prostate with the barest hint of pressure. As soon as Akira had built up a steady rhythm, however, he withdrew his fingers and left the futon completely. Alone again, Akechi would have complained had he not heard the telltale sound of a wrapper tearing as Akira took out a condom and rolled it onto his dick.

When he came back to the bed, Akira knelt behind Akechi, spreading lube over his cock with one hand and rubbing the small of Akechi’s back with the other.

“Ready?” he asked.

Akechi wasn’t sure he could ever be ready for this, but he wasn’t sure he could stand to wait much longer, either.

“Please,” was what he said.

Akira hovered behind him, taking his cock in hand before pushing slowly, slowly inside Akechi. While he tried to relax enough to accommodate the thick girth of his cock, it still took all of Akechi’s willpower not to gasp out loud, the sensation of Akira filling him new and strange. He had never been this close to someone before, and now Akira was _linked_ to him, moving closer and deeper until his hips were pressed flush against Akechi’s, at which point he paused.

“God, Goro,” Akira whispered. “It’s – you’re so…”

Akechi didn’t want to know what he was. He could already feel something welling up in the corners of his eyes, and he didn’t need to hear whatever sentimental tripe was about to spill from Akira’s mouth. Instead, Akechi pushed back and clenched around the full length of Akira’s cock, causing the thief to cut himself off with a sharp gasp.

“Come _on_ , Akira,” Akechi groaned. “Show me what you can do.”

And even though Akira was supposed to be the one giving the orders, he didn’t dare disobey Akechi. He gripped Akechi’s hips tightly and began to move, taking a few moments to adjust before falling into a steady rhythm. At first, Akechi couldn’t feel anything but the pinching pain of being stretched so fully, but as he got used to Akira’s cock, that pain slowly ebbed, replaced by a warm, tingling pressure.

Blithely, Akechi realized he was getting his wish: he was face down on the bed, gettijg fucked by Akira while unable to see the look on his face. It should have been the perfect set-up, granting him all the pleasure and none of the pain from seeing Akira honestly, genuinely _enjoying_ himself, but…

Akechi didn’t know what to think. It wasn’t as if he had never contemplated having sex before – it was an impossible thought for him to avoid when it was such a common topic among adults. At first, he’d been surprised to hear how brazenly drunken adults would speak about sexual topics in front of him, but that surprise had long since dulled.

Sex, Akechi had learned, was a tool. Love was rarely, if ever, a part of the picture.

But now…

Maybe it was because they were young. Young and naïve, blind to the bleak reality they lived in – that certainly described _Akira_ , if not Akechi – living like this, in a world where the Phantom Thieves were more than just an idealistic pipe dream… maybe here, sex and love could be related.

Not that Akechi loved him. He couldn’t.

Akira draped his entire body on top of Akechi’s, his silky lace camisole pressing against Akechi’s back, and his pace slowed to something languid. He pulled nearly all the way out before thrusting back in, and when he moaned, he was so close to Akechi’s ear that his voice was crystal-clear.

“You feel so good, Goro – you make me feel _so_ good,” he murmured, stroking Akechi’s thigh with one hand. “Never wanna stop… I could stay like this forever.”

“Nngh… Akira,” Akechi gasped.

“ _Yes,_ ” Akira groaned. “I love your voice; be loud for me, honey.”

Was that an order? Akechi wasn’t sure if they were still playing that game; Akira seemed too far gone at this point. Akechi tried to picture what he looked like right now, what this scene would have looked like if someone happened to come upon them: Akechi on his knees, his face pressed into the bed, and Akira behind him, tugging his lace panties to the side – still not even bothering to _remove_ them – and fucking him with long, powerful strokes.

It was too much, too good; Akechi could feel his orgasm building, the pressure in his gut growing stronger. He reached a hand down between his legs and gripped the base of his cock tightly, desperate to drag out this moment for as long as he could.

“Saw that,” Akira said. “Getting close?”

“Yes… damn it, Akira, what are you _doing?_ ” Akechi asked, whining as he felt Akira’s cock slide out of him, leaving him empty and wanting.

“Turn around,” Akira said, nudging his legs to encourage him to move. “I want to see your face when you come.”

“…an order,” Akechi said.

“Sure.”

Gulping down a shaky breath, Akechi flipped around until he was laying flat on his back. He lifted his legs into the air and spread them apart, finally getting a good look at Akira as he did. His cheeks were pinked from exertion, his mouth open slightly and his eyes lidded as he lined up the blunt head of his cock with Akechi’s asshole, ready to push back into him again.

Now that he’d had some practice, Akira fucked into him with a clear purpose: to find his prostate and grind against it, to drive him crazy with pleasure. Akechi could hardly contain himself, and he threw his head back against Akira’s pillow, panting and whining in the most embarrassing voice he’d ever heard himself use.

“Look here,” Akira said after a while, and – without thinking – Akechi did so.

Though he had been growing closer and closer to orgasm with every thrust, it was only when Akechi finally locked eyes with Akira that he lost himself, coming with a startling moan. He hastily reached down and worked his hand over his cock, painting his stomach wet with come while Akira moaned above him, his release spilling into the condom with one last thrust.

For a long moment, they stayed there exactly like that: Akechi on his back, panting and sweating, and Akira above him, his cock still buried in Akechi’s ass, the only sound in the attic that of their labored breathing.

“Just a second,” Akira said. Slowly, he slipped out of Akechi, carefully removing his condom and leaving the futon for a moment. Akechi closed his eyes. A wave of fatigue washed over him, although it was a different kind of tired from what he’d felt recently. Now he felt nothing but a bone-deep sensation of contentment, like he could fall asleep right now if he wasn’t careful.

Just then, something soft hit his stomach, and when he opened his eyes, he found a small hand towel laying on top of him, courtesy of Akira. Akechi wiped himself clean, but before he could sit up, Akira lay back down on the bed, draping one arm over his stomach.

“Stay the night,” he said. He snuggled up against Akechi’s side and rubbed his face against his arm like a cat.

Akechi bit his lip, tightness returning to his chest.

“Is that an order, Akira-kun?” he asked.

 _Say yes,_ he thought. It would give him an excuse to agree. It was late already, and he could feel the cold winter air sneaking in through cracks in the attic’s insulation. If he left now, he'd have to run to the subway station to make the last train, and if he was being honest with himself (a rarity for Akechi), he didn’t want to leave, either. Lying next to Akira like this, Akechi felt warm, safe.

Normal.

But Akira just shook his head, bumping against Akechi’s arm as he did.

“Not an order,” he said. “Just a wish.”

“I don’t have anything to wear to bed,” Akechi protested.

To this, Akira just grinned. “You didn’t have much problem borrowing my clothes before,” he said, sneaking a hand down to run his fingers along the hem of Akechi’s panties. With his other hand, he grabbed the futon's blanket and draped it over both of their bodies, further shielding Akechi from the cold and melting the last trace of his resolve.

“…okay,” Akechi said. He let his shoulders relax, and he turned around to lean into Akira’s embrace. “But only for tonight.”

What was one more night, after all? 

This wasn’t going to change anything. Akechi couldn’t allow it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks and love to Tam ([on ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/androgenius/pseuds/androgenius) // [on twitter](https://twitter.com/androugenius)) for beta-reading this fic!
> 
> and thanks to YOU for reading! I hope you enjoyed~ ♥


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